Pros and Cons
by Another Icarus
Summary: There is a fine scale of good and bad about living with Jason. Shockingly, it never tips over, and that is a very good thing in Dick's opinion.


Dick expected actually moving in with Jason would be a complicated mess. Well, Jason moving in with him. Their relationship was already full of highs and lows, and actually sharing space was just going to make it worse. He knew this. He had made lists, pros and cons and had stayed up at night thinking over the consequences while Jason drooled into his shoulder.

Which was one of the lesser problems Dick had about living together. Jason drooled when he slept. In all honesty, it would be cute if it wasn't kind of slimy and awkward and left Dick wanting to wash their sheets constantly. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that he didn't like feeding the laundromat down the street quarters of his hard earned Gotham PD paycheck just because he was a little easily squicked out. So he forced himself to deal with it, because really, drooling wasn't the sort of thing Dick could actively ask Jason to cut down on, and besides, he got the feeling that the asshole would smugly conclude that that meant Dick didn't want any more kisses.

Nothing could be further from the truth, of course. Dick loved the kisses they shared - from the quick, teasing kisses that ensured that they were okay after a bout of good-natured ribbing to the full out attack on one another to remind each other that the arguments were just that. Arguments and every couple had those - even if not every couple actively dissolved their fights into punches and kicks and throws.

At least they didn't resort to hair pulling. They weren't children, after all.

The kisses were the counter-point to the drooling. Living together meant more time together, which meant more kisses. More light touches, hard touches, presses into furniture and walls the just left Dick breathless and full of pleads for more. Hell, then there was sometimes hair pulling too, or the taste of blood between them, but it was in such a different intent that Dick didn't have it in him to complain.

What the hell was there to complain about, anyway? There was a fine line between pain and pleasure and they managed to dance right down it without ever crossing too far. Even if their neighbors probably didn't appreciate the time of night that they actually fell into bed after fighting crime. They - well, he - tried to cut down on the noise, really, but it was just damn hard when Jason knew all of his weakest points and shamelessly exploited them.

It really, really wasn't fair. Jason knew he was a bit vocal (bit? It sure wasn't the headboard hitting the wall that made sweet Mrs. Johnson next door shout at them to shut up, but Dick tried to pretend that that didn't happen).

Another downside, of course, was their differences in how they viewed crimefighting. They weren't a team - far from it, even if they watched each other's back more often than not - and it was probably better that way. The arguments about Jason's damn guns were countless, and probably started the fists flying more often than any other of their stupid arguments.

"You were looking at her ass, admit it!"

"Dammit, Jason, you can't shoot-"

"Fucking hell, Dick, I-"

Their arguments blurred into one big thing, and sometimes, Dick would swear that loving Jason was just one big mistake. There was no way they could put aside all of their differences, all of their problems. This was just wasting time and effort and would just leave him broken. He knew it. Or at least, he thought he did. It was this wretched pit in his stomach, and that was another one of the reasons not to move in together.

It was the sort of permanence that his training under Bruce screamed against, that would just completely fuck with him if he woke up and Jason was gone. He knew that's how he'd do it, too. Just up and leave in the middle of the night, leave no trace of himself. Or maybe just leave something like a t-shirt, just to fuck with him, because that's how Jason operated.

It was like Jason knew that that sort of shit passed through his head though. Those nights, Jason was surprisingly gentle (when normally, it was like he didn't know what the damn word meant), and somehow, there was some unspoken promise between them that while forever was just some bullshit word, they'd stick together for as long as possible.

They fell asleep intertwined, and miraculously, Jason didn't always drool then, and Dick felt reassured. Promises meant the world to him, even if Jason wouldn't ever be caught dead (hah. That word carried the weight of the world when used in conjunction with the younger man) breathing the word. No, Dick had to assume that they existed, but all the same, he did.

Then there was the fact that he was never alone. It drove him up the wall, sometimes. He wasn't always happy. He couldn't always smile, because dammit he fucked up too. People died because he screwed up, and he wanted to be alone then. Jason wouldn't let that happen though. He'd get right in his fucking face, and make him face facts that he didn't want to hear.

"You can't save everyone."

"Better them than you."

"You fucked up bad, golden boy."

See con number two. They fought. They had rough make up sex that had Mrs. Johnson hitting the shared wall trying to get them to shut up. Facts of life were pretty simple sometimes.

There was also the fact that Jason wasn't alone. Ever. The nights that Jason woke him up in a frenzy, struggling with the sheets in a feverish nightmare that left him whining and shouting and in such a state that it twisted Dick's stomach and made him shake his lover awake. It broke his heart to know that years later, Jason still had nightmares of the coffin and the death and he couldn't do shit but hold him and kiss him and promise him that he was right there. That he'd protect him, because dammit, that's what he would do. Dick would die before he saw something like that happen to Jason again.

Jason didn't always believe him, but it didn't make it any less true. He'd hold him through the night, and remind him that he wasn't going to go anywhere.

And when Dick looked at it, the drooling wasn't so bad. It reminded him enough that Jason was human and it was tolerable enough. It was just a sign that Jason was here, alive and breathing (and drooling on his pillow, again). The fights were better than if they both internalized it all - they were in a healthy relationship. Well, the physical harm was debatable, but it was how they were comfortable settling their differences. It helped them drop it, and come out as a stronger pair in the long run.

Living together was permanent, and that gave Dick all sorts of promises. Jason was trying to be a better person - it'd been a week since he last killed a criminal, after all, and dammit, the very fact that he was trying for Dick brought all sort of raw emotions up until he just hugged onto Jason and didn't let go.

And they wouldn't. Never. Jason shouted it at the top of his lungs when Dick wanted to disappear into himself, and Dick whispered it into Jason's ear to banish the nightmares. They weren't going away. This was now, this was the future, and all they had to do was believe that this would work.


End file.
